


Both Alike in Dignity

by LaceKyoko1138



Category: Dragon Age II, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Bethany and Carver Hawke Live, Characters to be added, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Gen, Mage Robin, Morally Ambiguous Character, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rogue Hawke (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 16:45:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19872814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaceKyoko1138/pseuds/LaceKyoko1138
Summary: ... in dirty Kirkwall, where we lay our scene...Robin has no memory. She wakes up in an open field among carnage knowing somehow she had something to do with it. She meets fellow Fereldans and together they migrate to Kirkwall to flee the Blight. There, she will manifest her new destiny.Azrael Hawke and family flee their home of Lothering. Fighting for her life, she meets an injured templar, his warrior wife, and an amnesiac mage. Finding it humorous, she joins them and they find themselves in Kirkwall, where her mother claims the Amells have an estate. But something sinister is going on with Kirkwall and Azrael finds she may need more allies than migrant Fereldans.Azrael and Robin find themselves as the opposites of the same coin. They may not like each other, but they will come to rely on each other more often than they'd like.





	Both Alike in Dignity

**Author's Note:**

> One of my friends says I'm the queen of odd AUs. I'd have to agree. At least Fire Emblem/Dragon Age makes more sense than Fire Emblem/Yu-Gi-Oh...
> 
> Hello! Welcome to this hell fic! I've had this idea brewing for some time and after working on my mage runthrough of DA2 (where I named my Hawke Robin), I decided I'd go through with this. It's very self-indulgent for me, but I do hope you will follow along and enjoy the ride!
> 
> I will add more character tags as the story progresses. Dragon Age and Fire Emblem have too many characters that I love and I look forward to writing them.

The heat of the sun was what woke her. Beating down on her skin, she felt the beginnings of a sunburn. Her nose wrinkled. An acrid odor was in the air and she could feel it, cloying, on her clothes. It seemed to have made its way into her mouth and she rolled over to gag, dry heaving, but nothing was coming up. She spit anyway and opened her eyes.

The ground she was laying on was dry, the sparse grass irritating her through her robe. She blinked and looked up, sitting on her knees, her hands rolled into fists, placed on those knees. Around her was absolute carnage.

Bodies upon bodies in the field were strewn about, bloodied and battered. Some were human; some were not. She could recognize that much. She had no name for the monstrous beings, although she did recognize an ogre, large and very much dead.

She stood up, disturbed as she realized she was the only survivor. She turned about, her long hair hitting her in the face. White and long, held in tails on either side of her head. She tried to think of how she looked like but a sharp pain hit her in the temple.

Why did it hurt to think?

She looked at her hands. Gloved. Had she been fighting? She looked down her front and saw that she was in what she hoped was normal garb: a beige shirt and pants, a wide leather belt, leather boots, and covering her entire body was a dark purple robe opened at the front. There were some blood stains on her clothes, but she couldn’t tell if it was hers, or someone else’s. In a way, she hoped it was hers. But she didn’t feel wounded, so she knew it must have been the latter.

She looked around and saw a staff of peculiar design resting in a spot not too far from the one she had been laying in. It was a faded purple, possibly made of some sort of crystal, and near the top it zigged and zagged in a way that suggested lighting. She grabbed it. It crackled. She felt the mana surge inside her. Magic. So she was a mage.

It was strange she could remember _that_ , but magic was as natural as breathing it seemed.

She held the staff tightly in her right hand, instinct telling her this was the correct way. She gazed about and saw no life. She had no sense of self in this moment, but her survival instincts were killer. It was time to move. Move, or be mowed down by what was coming.

But what was coming? She had no idea. Something bad.

She scurried down a path. Behind her, she could hear in the distance something chaotic happening. A battle. Were they at war? Where even was she?

She tried to think of various geographical locations but none had a name. Nothing was familiar anymore. She knew the word for this. Amnesia. What caused it? She touched her head and felt a small bump. She winced. Of course. Something must have hit her hard enough to knock her out and unfortunately erase her memories. She’d have to find a way to jog it back.

Would she even want it back? With how things were going, perhaps forgetting what happened and moving on fresh was better. Not many had this chance. With a blithe outlook, she proceeded down her way, hoping she wouldn’t run into any hideous monsters.

Our amnesiac yet optimistic protagonist had no such luck, for within a small amount of time, she ran into fellow stragglers like herself, a woman and a man to be exact. The man seemed to be indisposed, but the woman was fighting like a mother bear who had lost her cubs. She fought with a ferocity the girl had never seen before, or at least couldn’t remember seeing, and watching the woman punch a monster in the face and then duly beheading it with its own blade was a sight she would never forget. But the pair was quickly becoming surrounded and the white-haired amnesiac knew they couldn’t last unless she helped. So quickly she intervened, zapping away the humanoid monsters with lightning magic she conjured. It was powerful magic, and the metal armor the monsters wore conducted it well. They were fried and then it was over.

The man was instantly on guard. “Apostate!” he cried, pointing at her. He was shaking, but it wasn’t from fear. There was something sinister going on here.

“Wesley, she helped us,” the woman said, hair as red as fire, eyes glittering like emeralds. She had a cluster of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She turned to the mage.

“I am Aveline Valen, and this is my husband, Ser Wesley. And you are?”

She had no words. She had no idea who she was. “I… I don’t know.”

“An apostate with no memory of who she is? That sounds like an easy possession for a demon!” The man, no, Wesley, declared. “My love, I may have to strike her down.”

“Don’t. I don’t think that we’re in any danger with our savior here.” Aveline said calmly. “Serah, what do you mean you don’t know?”

The mage shrugged. “I woke up in a field… There were dead bodies… I think something struck me...” She gestured to her staff. “This is the only thing I know. I don’t even know where we are.”

Aveline’s eyes widened in surprise. “We’re in Ferelden, just outside Lothering. The Blight is fully underway. How could you...” Her eyes focused on something else. “Oh, are you Dalish? No… Even the Dalish would know what Ferelden is...”

“I’m sorry? What’s ‘Dalish’ mean?” the girl asked.

“Aveline, this madness is unreal! How can an elf not know what a Dalish is?” Wesley yelled.

Elf? She was an elf?

“I…” She reached up and touched the tips of her ears. Yes, they were pointed, long, and sensitive. So she was indeed an elf.

“Hmm, you’re rather tall for an elf, but your dark complexion is quite nice. You’re...unusual, definitely, but it’s easy to see you’ve been hurt.” Aveline surmised. “Don’t mind my husband. He’s a templar; they’re all like that.”

“Templar???” The apparently elven woman was even more confused. “I’m sorry, but you may have to explain some things to me...”

“Oh. Um...” Aveline was at a loss for words. “Templars… Well, they control mages.”

The mage knew there was a deeper meaning to ‘control’ here. “What do you mean by that?”

“You apostates are a threat to everything we hold dear. We templars keep you in check.”

“So you kill mages that threaten you,” the girl surmised. “I have no intent of doing that, Ser Wesley.”

Had she any memories, would she have felt threatened by this man? Currently, his state said he was no threat. He was wounded and weak. Whatever was at play here would finish him off quickly and the elf mage found she didn’t really care. So, no, she wouldn’t threaten him. She wouldn’t hurt him. Fate would have its way with him.

There was some hubbub behind her and she turned. Four people approached them. An older woman was at the back, winded and scared. With her were three younger folk: a young man with ink black hair and piercing blue eyes, a girl with a busty figure and black hair and brown eyes, and leading them was a woman with short red hair and deep cerulean eyes. She was dual wielding two blades and walked in a way that left no sound. A rogue. The elf mage knew that much.

She suddenly felt at ease as she noticed the busty girl also had a staff, and she felt magic emanating from this girl. The man had a sword, so the elf concluded he was a warrior.

“Oh thank the maker! Friendly faces!” The older woman exclaimed. “I was afraid we were the last of them.”

“Mother, you say friendly, yet we don’t even know these people. Just because they’re survivors doesn’t mean they’re suddenly our friends. They could be bandits, profiting off the refugees of the Blight.” The rogue had a snarky way about her. The elf mage wanted to laugh but knew that she had a good point. They could be anyone.

“I...am no bandit,” the elf said carefully. “I… Well, I don’t know who I am.” She tried thinking on her identity but winced. It still hurt, although it wasn’t as bad as before.

“Oh great, we’ve got an injured templar and an elf with an identity crisis. How about you serah?” The rogue asked of Aveline. “What sordid tale do you have for us?”

“I am Aveline Valen and this is my husband Wesley. We were beset by darkspawn.”

_Darkspawn…_

Suddenly visions hit the elf mage.

_People everywhere were screaming as hideous monsters attacked the village. Burning buildings billowing smoke into a red sky. Blood in pools on the ground. The smell of death. The sounds of terror. It was a sight before Robin’s eyes…_

_Robin… Robin… Robin._

_Her name was Robin…_

There was a voice in her head that didn’t quite sound like her own, but for now, she trusted it. It was all she had to go by at this point.

“My name is Robin,” she said aloud. Her eyes stared into the middle distance.

“Well that’s one mystery solved,” the warrior noted. “But what about you Wesley?”

“I fear I can’t go on...” He said. Robin noted how pale he seemed. His eyes were becoming blank and grey, and veins were becoming more apparent through his skin. He looked on the verge of death.

“Wesley, no...” Aveline turned to him and caught him when he collapsed. “You...”

“It’s the corruption...” he gasped. “Aveline, you must...”

“I can’t!” she cried.

Robin was rapidly remembering. The Blight was a catastrophic event when the darkspawn roamed free again and destroyed everything in their path. The corruption, which created darkspawn, could infect humans, elves, and others. Wesley was beyond saving. The only thing that could cure the corruption was to become a Grey Warden, and unfortunately none of them were around. To her knowledge, the Grey Wardens were all but dead.

Robin held no sympathy for Wesley. He had wanted her dead the minute he met her. She’d happily fry his ass.

“He’s the threat,” she said darkly. “If we let this prolong, he’ll kill us all. He has to be put down.”

“How can you say such a thing?” The older woman asked. In truth, Robin was unsure. Something about her words felt off, but this whole situation was bizarre. She had no sense of self. Was she a kind woman, or was she practical? Being kind would not help this situation, so she decided practical.

“It’s not to be unkind,” she amended, “but he’s sick and we’ve no cure. It doesn’t help that he’s a templar and there are two apostates among us.” She looked at the other mage. She held her staff tightly. “I will do it if Aveline is incapable.”

“No...” Aveline said. “I… Wesley, I’m so sorry.”

“My love...” he gasped. Aveline took a dagger and plunged it into his heart. He was gone in seconds.

Aveline dried her tears and gestured to the others. “Let’s go...”

While they trekked, they discussed all possible routes. Apparently south was the way to go. There was a port not too far away and they could hitch a ride on a ship towards Kirkwall. The older woman, Leandra, claimed she had an estate there from when she was younger. According to her, she was of noble birth but eloped with an apostate. Hawke was her name now, as were her children. Carver and Bethany were twins, but the rogue was named Azrael and was the eldest.

Robin listened intently, the irony of a family named Hawke, and she after a songbird, not lost on her. Something told her to be especially wary of the rogue. Leandra was harmless enough; she was no mage, had no martial training, and her only power it seemed was to nag her children. That was fine. She was a mother of three after all. Robin forgave that. Carver seemed distrusting of her and she decided she didn’t like him. Bethany and she bonded over magic. She found Bethany to be a treasure. But Azrael… Beneath that sarcastic exterior was something dark. No one chose the way of a rogue and was straight laced. No. Azrael was a threat, but Robin would play nice. They were stuck on a ship together after all.

Aveline, although distraught, was a boon companion. She was strong despite her turmoil and very honest. She admitted Wesley sometimes took his work too seriously, but he was a frank and open man and that’s why she loved him. Robin found it admirable for the most part, but that didn’t change her opinion that Wesley had it coming.

After two weeks at sea, the city of chains was on the horizon. Robin was at the fore, and stared at the open sea.

Kirkwall was where she’d start over.


End file.
